


Home for The Holidays

by RevelationTWDnSlender (orphan_account)



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:43:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/RevelationTWDnSlender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's worse, working at Fazbears Pizza or spending the most boring Christmas with your shitty partner?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for The Holidays

Authors Note: Hey ho, I'm returning for one more Pike fic. If you didn't know, I'm the person who basically made this ship.[ You can read all my old things here for proof](http://archiveofourown.org/series/223280), but I decided to revisit these psychos for a Christmas special- consider it my farewell gift as I am most likely not returning to do any more for the Five Nights at Freddys fandom. Anyway, enjoy, and merry Christmas. I hope it was well for you all xx

  
"It's almost Christmas.

"Yeah."

Mike sighs, his hand keeping his tired head from falling. His eyes peered out the window as he watched the gentle snowflakes fall into the windowsill, covering the ground in the white ice. It made him feel calm, but the sense of impending dread still came over him.

He wanted to go home.

Scott sighed and put an arm on the younger males shoulder. "Listen, this is the last night, and then we'll have the rest of December to be away from here, at least for a week, okay?"  
Mike glances back and nods, his head returning to watching the snow fall. Lights lined the pizzeria, a large tree planted outside with ornaments made by the kids- full of drawings of the animatronics inside. It warmed Scotts heart, to be honest, but it brought back rather painful memories of older times. On the other hand, Mike felt lonely. This would be his first Christmas away from home, the first time he wasn't surrounded by people who loves him unconditionally and hugged and kissed him and told him that he was doing fine.

Well, not everyone. Scott would be there this year.

Mike sighed and straightened his back, hearing the familiar click of the porch lights going out. It was almost midnight, meaning that their shift would be starting soon, and that the place was going to go dark soon. Scott checked the locks on the front doors once more, closed the window (he always had one window opened no matter how cold it was. "I just like the fresh air" he had remarked once to Mike. "Yeah, or so that you can get away with smoking.") Foxy was turned off and as broken as always in Pirates Cove. Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie remained in their spots onstage (for now), unmoving, a paper Santa hat on Freddy's head. Scott smiled briefly at it before walking down the hall to the office.

At the strike of midnight, Scott's watch went off. It beeped for a few seconds before he shut it off, focusing his attention onto the cameras at hand. "Hey, listen" he began, his voice low and tired. "Things probably ain't gonna get too bad tonight. I'll take care of it. Just rest, alright? Shits been tough."

Mike chuckled. "Yeah, when have things ever not gotten too bad? You know how far they'll be up our ass tonight, and I'm not slacking."

"With that attitude, you're gonna end up doing a lot of work you don't wanna do."

"Yeah, well, look at my current line of work."

Scott flipped through the cameras. Bonnie was already on the move. "We've talked about this. You really should go b-"

"Back to college, blah blah blah, fuck you, Scott, I can't afford that and I'm not being in debt for the rest of my life. Besides. I have no talents. I can't cook, I can't draw, the only thing I'm capable of is staying up for hours on hours keeping myself alive."

Scott sighed and glanced over with a sad expression. "I'm sorry you had to take this job."

"It's not your fault."

"You don't get it." He rubbed his eyes. "It is my fault, and you're suffering because of it. I'm sorry."

"Bonnie."

Scott didn't even have to open his eyes to automatically know to punch the door button to his left.

"Scott, I get it. You're some mysterious guy who's been working here for a long ass time, and you've got some history with this place. You can't tell me about it, fine, I get it. But you know what? Stop blaming yourself for all the worlds problems. Tomorrows Christmas Eve, we should be...happy. Or excited. Or just- okay. We should get drunk and fuck until next year instead of worrying about who did what and who's to blame for me having a shitty job in the worst part of town. Because you know what, I wouldn't have met you without this job. Good things can come from the worst situations."

Scott smiled and shook his head. "Schmidt, I'm starting to think you're a madman."

"Well, you're not wrong."

XXX

"Jesus, it smells like smoke in here."

Scott, who is sitting by the only window in the room, Throws his cigarette into the snow before closing it. "Heh. Sorry."

Mike rolls his eyes and plops himself down onto the king sized bed, his back rested against the wall, his arse on his pillow. He sighs, turning his head to face Scott after a moment. "It's Christmas Eve" he says with a frown. "It doesn't feel like it."

"Never does" Scott replied, standing up from his chair, only to lay on the bed. "Never has."

"Christmas used to be my favorite holiday."

"Look at what's changed."

Mike sighs once more and shrugs. "What are we even going to do tomorrow? Should I cook?"  
  
Scott doesn't answer.

Mike instead moves himself to be face to face with Scott, laying next to him over the covers. He gently placed a hand over Scotts, and growls. "I'm a good cook you fucker."

Scott chuckles before nodding. "Hey, maybe with some cooking lessons you'll make something edible in a year or two."

"Don't make me break out the peanut butter and force it down your throat."

XXX

Mike's alarm clock goes off at six am. He wonders why he even set the damn thing in the first place- frankly, he'd much rather be sleeping than awake in the crippling boredom and lifelessness that is his life. (Besides. Why would he even set an alarm for six? He goes to work at midnight!) He sighs, turning over in bed to face Scott. Mike listened, for a while, to his breathing before deciding that sleep was no longer an achievable option. He scoffed as he walked into the kitchen, the clock reading six-twenty in the morning. What a wonderful time to wake up and want to hurl yourself off of a bridge.

He wastes some time by sitting at the table in the kitchen, turning the TV on low volume. He sips his cup of coffee, flipping through the channels to find anything- anything worth watching. But, alas, it was six in the morning on a Sunday afternoon- who was up, other than kids opening Christmas presents? Mike Schmidt, that's who. He eventually settles on one of the fifty news channels, watching for anything to catch his attention.

"Christmas joy as lucky family wins sixty thousand dollars" said the news header. Mike smiles to himself, watching the fairly well off family receive the check. And why, anyway? At least they had a tree, presents and happiness. Mike had nothing.

Speaking of nothing.

"What are you doing up?" Scott says, his voice raspy and tired. "It's Sunday."

"You mean Christmas."

"Christmas, whatever. Why are you up? Can you come back to bed?"

Mike rolls his eyes. "No. I'm already up."

"This is an ungodly hour to be awake, Mike. At least come lay with me." Scott gently wraps his arms around Mike's neck, his head resting heavy on Mike's.

Mike sighs.

XXX

"We don't even have a tree. Or anything to do today," Mike complains, sitting on the couch, his legs resting on the table. "No fucking decorations, no food, no fun. I haven't even gotten laid."

The time was three in the afternoon, Scott had just gotten out of the shower, only to listen to Mike complain. Again.

"Say something" he hisses. "Don't let me complain like a bitch."

"Well, id rather have you be yourself." Scott replies with a wink. "And I know. It's not christmassy, but Christmas sucks anyway. Why don't you call your folks to come down?"

Mike raises a brow. "Come down to what, exactly? Why don't you call YOUR folks?"

"Well, my folks ain't really fond of me" Scott says, drying his hair. "You know, the whole 'I like guys' thing sets them off."

"Tell them I'm a friend."

"They wouldn't believe that for a second."

"So, what the fuck are we supposed to do today then, huh? Sit around? Watch movies?"

Scott shrugs.

"Lame. Fuckin ' lame."

XXX

"Well, at least you remembered gifts exist" Mike grins a bit. "But you know, I kinda asked you not to get me anything."

"You should know by now that nobody takes that seriously."

"True."

Mike unwraps the box, wrapped in reindeer wrapping paper. He lifts the side of the box, revealing purple tissue paper covering the gift. He takes it off, crinkling the thin paper in his hand, tossing it gently to the side. "Scott, how did you-?"

"Don't ask questions. I saved up for a bit."

Mike stared at the camera in his hands for a moment before looking to the elder with a grin. "I can't fucking believe you got me this. You're the best!"

Pushing Scott into the bed, Mike laid his lips down on the others, sloppily but happily.

All was well. For now.

XXX

"Scott, sixteen."

"Foxy is almost out."

"It's only four! We can't close the doors again or we're doomed!"

Scott was sweating. He was nervous. Mike, on the other hand, continued to poke at his camera out of anxiety while not looking at the power percentage. For some strange reason, the animatronics had been more and more active that night; coming to the doors only twenty minutes after their initial arrival. It was almost unheard of, the speed in which they moved that night. But it was also dangerous. Horrifying really.

"Scott, thirteen percent!"

Running footsteps and a screech are heard before Scott closes the left door. Foxy founds for twelve seconds, much longer than anytime before, before heading back to Pirates Cove: just to peek his head out once again.

"Ten percent. There's no way we're making it."

"Well make it."

"How, exactly!?"

"We just will, okay?! I've been...through worse."

"If we do make it through this," Mike says, looking at his camera. "Then I guess I'll make this a horror movie." He set the camera to record before shaking his head. "But I'm really, really scared were not."

Nine.

Bonnie stands in the hallway, directly outside of the door.

Eight.

Chica comes to the window.

Seven.

A strange growling is heard from backstage.

Six.

All the cameras go out for good.

Five.

Foxy again.

Four.

Bonnie is coming up the hallway.

Three.

Freddy is laughing.

Two.

Silence.

One.

Scotts face turns a shade of pure white as the now silent building gives off an ambient shutting down noise. The only light in the room comes from Mike's camera, and the only noise is shuffling feet.

"T-there's a generator" Scott mumbles, extremely quietly. "Hide under the table. I'll go turn it O-on."

"There's no way, you won't make it!"

Scott doesn't answer. He stands from his chair, visibly shaken. He steps out into the hallway, and leaves into the darkness.

Minutes pass. They feel like hours.

Until a chime is heard- and Mike knows this chime. It's etched into his brain.

Freddy's eyes glow.

There's blood on his face, only seen by the glow of his mouth as the chime plays outside of the left door.

Mike doesn't move. He can't.

The last thought he thinks, is something completely strange- something you wouldn't imagine having your last thought as.

"What a fucking shitty Christmas," he thinks. And that thought scares him.

But not more than the crunch of his own skull.  
  
XXX


End file.
